


Smile With Me

by bbbeautifulboy



Series: Fix Me Up, My Darling [3]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ben Hargreeves Lives, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Disability, Disabled Character, Gen, Mental Health Issues, No Incest, Runaway AU, Vanya Hargreeves Deserves Better, young hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:02:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29369706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbbeautifulboy/pseuds/bbbeautifulboy
Summary: Ben is managing.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Vanya Hargreeves
Series: Fix Me Up, My Darling [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2150481
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	Smile With Me

“How about babysitting?” Vanya asks, as she and Ben lie on the mattress in the spare room of Eudora’s older brother Lyall and his wife’s home.

“I guess we’re all CPR and first aid certified,” Ben replies, flipping over one of the newspapers spread out in front of them, looking for the comics section; they’ve been job hunting all week, and he’s scanned so many black-and-white ads he thinks his brain might implode if he doesn’t read something with a story (or color). Vanya’s looking equally deflated, not even looking at the papers anymore, her hair fanned out around her as she stared up at the ceiling. “I wouldn’t really know what to do with a kid, though.”

“Mm. Me neither. Diego would probably be good at babysitting.”

Ben snorts. “Diego? What would he do, teach kids how to be Bat-Man?”

“Probably.” Ben can hear Vanya’s grin. “But I meant because of all the time he spent with Mom. He probably picked up a thing or two.”

“You should bring it up to him.”

“You really think he’ll listen to me?” It’s easy to tell when Vanya is troubled by something; her voice gets quiet, and Ben can detect a bitter undertone.

Ben pushes himself into a sitting position, masking a wince at the pain that shoots through his lower-back. Vanya glances up at him with just her eyes. “Yes.”

“He hates me.” 

“He’s never  _ hated  _ you. He has no reason to. He just--” 

“--is above me?” Vanya raises her eyebrows. 

“You should know better than anyone, growing up as the only cool one in a house of self-absorbed assholes, that just because he thinks that doesn’t make it true.” He grins at her.

“I wouldn’t say  _ full of  _ self-absorbed assholes.” She smiles, sitting up and stretching. “One-through-Three, no doubt. Four is kinda middle-ground, acting like he’s better than everyone else but not actually thinking it makes him a whole lot more tolerable.”

That’s pretty accurate, though Ben would agree to disagree on the “tolerable” part.

“I can’t say Six makes the cut.” Vanya knocks her shoulder into his warmly. “Dad, of course, wrote the book on being a self-absorbed asshole, and Five wrote the sequel that’s about everything Dad’s book got wrong…” 

The conversation trails off, as it always does when Five is brought up. 

Sometimes Ben imagines he was gone instead of Five. Five left so much to talk about. He was a story of a person, stories that hurt to tell now. With Ben, there wouldn’t be much left to remember. Ben just… is. He isn’t sure what to do with that knowledge-- probably file it away with the rest of his unwanted thoughts. 

Ben readjusts positions again, but it feels like somebody is drilling into his lower back. One of the many consequences of a building collapsing on you. He’s grateful that the majority of his wounds fully healed, and the ones that couldn’t... Well. He’s managing.

Managing; if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s that. His whole life has been  _ managing _ , hasn’t it? These past couple months have just been the icing on the cake.  _ Managing  _ not to die.  _ Managing  _ to learn to operate with limited mobility in his legs.  _ Managing  _ to avoid Klaus after his exhausted, painful confession that night.  _ Managing _ to leave the academy, and now raise money for their new life, whatever that ends up looking like. Ben is putting as much effort into it as the rest of them, so why can he only envision the future as a blank slate, as empty as space? 

Maybe he’s just as broken mentally as he is physically. 

He maintains his smile towards Vanya. “Wanna get out of here?”

“You know it.”

Ben’s wheelchair-- a low-backed, manual one that showed up when Dad deemed Ben well enough to return to training-- is positioned at the edge of the mattress. He shifts across the mattress to it, taking a moment to configure how he needs to position himself to get up into it like Mom had shown him.

“Need a hand?” Vanya asks quietly, sounding as though she’s trying to walk on eggshells. A pang of hurt shoots through him that has nothing to do with his injuries. 

“M’fine,” he grunts, awkwardly pushing himself up into the chair, thanking the universe that he makes it without much struggle. He avoids Vanya’s eyes and leads her out into the main part of the house. Lyall and his wife, Karla, are both at work, Diego is out looking for work, and Klaus is supposedly out doing the same though Ben is less sure of what that means for him and frankly doesn't want to know. Ever since leaving the academy and fulfilling their arrangement to stay here, it’s been a scramble to make enough cash to move out sooner rather than later. Lyall and Karla have been overwhelmingly generous since offering to put a roof over their heads for the time being and kind enough not to ask too many questions, but they can’t impose on the couple’s life for much longer.

Lyall and Karla live just outside the city, on the other side of which the academy stands. Ben and Vanya catch a bus into the city and head to the street corner where Vanya has been playing violin in exchange for donations. Ben admires that for all her shyness, Vanya has not an ounce of stage fright; she’s able to whip out her violin in the middle of a crowded sidewalk and play with no hesitations, hardly seeming to be aware of people stopping to watch as soon as she draws her bow across the strings. Ben would never mention it for fear of upsetting her, but sometimes he genuinely believes that music is her superpower. 

Ben pulls his hood up against the late-August wind, wheeling himself along beside Vanya. His back is still killing him, white-hot pinches up and down his spine and between his shoulder blades. He does his best to ignore it, but is secretly relieved when a bookshop comes up in the line of buildings they pass.

“Hey, is it cool if I check this place out and catch up with you later?” He asks Vanya.

“‘Course,” she nods. “I’ll be at the usual spot.” 

Ben watches her go ahead, then enters the shop. It’s small and cozy, shelves displaying the cracked spines of used books. The aura is instantly comforting, and Ben allows himself to un-tense a bit. The Horror pokes his insides in curiosity, and he throws his guard back up, maneuvering to the back of the shop with no exact goal in mind besides getting out of the open. He passes the register counter, where a middle-aged woman is hanging up the phone with a loud click.

“Hey-- hey kid!”

It takes a moment for Ben to realize she’s talking to him. He looks over at her, gesturing to himself for confirmation.

She nods, raising her eyebrows. “Come over here, will you?”

Ben does as she says without much through, wheeling up to the counter. After an awkward beat of silence while she scribbles something on a notepad, he remembers his hood and yanks it down in an attempt to look less like a thief. Though why would a thief rob a bookstore? Still, why else would the apparent shop owner want to talk to him? “Uh… hi?”

“What’s your name?”

“S-- Ben.” Ben doesn’t know why he’s so nervous-- maybe because this is the first time in his life he’s introducing himself to someone without his siblings around, someone who doesn’t have a clue who he is-- and honestly seems too busy to care.

“You know how to use a cash register?” 

“Um--”

“You’ll figure it out. Listen, I’m in a bit of a pinch here. I gotta pick up my youngest from school and my other daughter isn’t going to be here to take over for another thirty minutes. Think you can manage?”

“To… run the shop?”

“Good. You’ll get paid when I’m back.”

“Wait, m’am--”

“Don’t worry, business is slow. Two customers might pop in at best in the time I’m gone. You seem smart, you’ll be able to handle it,  _ si _ ?” She slides the notepad to him. “This is my number, I’m Poppy.  _ Mierda _ , you don’t have somewhere to be, do you?”

The woman seems desperate, and no one else is currently in the shop, so Ben shakes his head.

“Bless you, kid. I’ll be back before you know it!” She calls as she half-runs out the door, leaving Ben sitting by the counter wondering what the hell just happened in under two minutes. 

A hiss sounds from above him, and he glances up to see a tortoiseshell cat perched on the railing of a stair landing, its beady blue eyes narrowed like it can see right through him. 

“Think you can fall back for a bit?” He murmurs to the Horrors, who have settled squirming beneath his ribcage. “You’re freaking out the cat.”

The Horrors, of course, don’t listen.

After zoning out staring at the door for a few minutes, waiting for the bell to ring announcing a customer’s arrival so he can make a scene not knowing how to use the register (or interact like a normal human, apparently) he decides to pick up one of the books behind the counter in hope of settling his nerves. His back has calmed down a little now that it’s not being strained. He ends up being sucked into the first few chapters of  _ The Handmaid’s Tale  _ with not a customer in sight. When the bell does ring, he’s startled so bad he drops the book in his lap and the Horrors jump with him, slamming into his diaphragm and making his lungs spasm. 

“You...good?” The girl who came in asks, while he nods fervently, too winded to speak. If the Horrors could laugh, he imagines they’d be cracking up now.

“Fine,” he wheezes, and clears his throat, getting a good look at her. She’s a teenager with long dark red hair (dyed?) and large wire-framed glasses. 

She hums, looking him up and down as well. “I think you’re the youngest person I’ve seen here in years.”

“Aren’t you…” Then it hits him. “Oh, shit, are you Poppy’s daughter? The one who’s supposed to take over? Sorry, I’ll… uh.. Be out of your hair, your mom just wanted me to watch the shop ‘cause she--”

“Not so fast,” she says. “Rushing out of here is a tad suspicious, you know that? Considering you’re a stranger my mom left in charge of the register.”

He’s about to launch into a ramble to prove his honesty when he realizes she’s messing with him. “Oh.”

“Damn, my Mom must’ve scared the bejeebers out of you.” She wanders closer, and Ben has to resist the urge to back up. “That’s fair. She has the personality of a tornado.”

“She seemed really nice,” Ben blurts.

“Nah, she’s the best. Unfortunately, my little sister picked up her proclivity for theatrics. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s just feigning a migraine to get out of school again.” 

“I get that,” Ben says. She leans back against the counter and looks over at him. “Sorry, I mean-- I have siblings too. Six, actually-- technically five now, cause one of my brothers… uh… isn’t around anymore.”

Her eyes grow large. “Oh, I’m so--”

“He’s not dead!” Ben says quickly. “He… um… ran away. A few years ago.” Ben has no clue why he’s telling her all this; he and the others really should have come up with some sort of protocol in case someone asked about their background. But this girl didn’t ask, so why the hell can’t he stop talking? 

The girl whistles. “Technicalities aside, six siblings is wild. And here I am whining about just the one.” She grins, showing white teeth, the bottom ones a little crooked. “Are they older or younger?”

“We’re…” Ben can’t exactly say they’re adopted and all the same age without raising suspicion, so he says, “I’m the sixth-oldest.”

“So second-youngest, nice. The babies of the family get all the attention, it seems.” She teases lightly. “At least in my sisters’ case. Obviously.” 

Ben thinks of Vanya, who would technically be the youngest according to how he’s framing things, and resists the urge to joke about how their case would be the polar opposite.

He ducks his head, hiding a grin. “Well, Poppy said she’d be back soon. I’ll get going… So if you need to, erm, pat me down or anything…” he holds out his arms in front of him. 

She laughs, like she can’t tell if he’s joking. “You’re good to go. Don’t you want your pay, though?”

“Oh! Yeah.” It takes everything in him not to say  _ if it’s not too much trouble _ .

She pops open the register, quickly extracting some bills and folding them in an envelope. “Good work today,” she winks, handing the money to him, and this time he’s the one unable to tell if she’s kidding. 

“Thanks. Though I didn’t do much, it seems like a quiet day.” Really, he wouldn’t take the money if he and his siblings didn’t really need it. He glances around the quiet, warmly-lit shop. 

She makes a sound of understanding. “Business is slow on weekdays. We get pretty busy on weekends, though. We’re a real hot spot for retirement home field-trips.”

“It’s great here.”

“Really?” She tilts her head. “Then you’re either being sarcastic, you’ve been living under a rock, or you’re really desperate for a job.”

Ben sits up straighter. “The last one. Definitely the last one-- if you’re hiring, that is.” He goes back over her words, and adds, “And a little bit of the second one too, actually.”

“Honey, we’ve been hiring practically since the dawn of time and you’re the first person to show any interest. If you want the job, you’re hired.”

“Really? You don’t need to… I dunno, do a background check or anything first?”

“What’s your name?”

“Ben.”

“Got a last name, Ben?”

“Hargreeves,” he answers, then mentally curses himself. Her expression shifts subtly, and her eyes flick up and down him again; he prays she doesn’t make the connection. 

Then she says, dead serious, “Ever murdered anyone, Ben Hargreeves?” He chokes again, but she must mistake it for a laugh because she starts laughing herself. “You asked for a background check!”

“That’s a hell of a first question…” He mutters, forcing a lighthearted tone. “I guess you’re a lot more thorough than your mom, though. What was she thinking, leaving her shop with a total stranger?”

“She has a sort of sixth-sense for judging people’s character.” The girl gives him another curious smile that makes him lower his eyes, face heating. “Well, as manager of this place, I am authorized to hire you. You start tomorrow at nine a.m., yes?”

“Yes.” He blinks. “Thank you… so much.”

“Happy to have you on board,” she replies cheerfully. “I’m Sophie, by the way.”

Ben catches the end of Vanya’s performance and claps the loudest out of everyone gathered to watch her perform. 

As the small crowd disperses, she skips over to him, hugging her violin case like somebody might try to steal the precious instrument from her. “Guess what,” they say together.

“You first,” Ben says, as they begin their embark towards the bus stop. 

“I made fifty dollars,” Vanya tells him, her voice and face flooded with joy Ben hasn’t seen from his sister in a while; it’s contagious. 

He laughs. “Fifty in under an hour? Jeez, that’s crazy.”

“Right? I can’t believe people actually like me.” Her cheeks tint pink.

“Of course they do,” Ben says. “You’re awesome.”

“Shut up.” She grins. “Okay, what’s your news?”

“I got a job.” He forgot that smiling could be this easy. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading part 3 of "Fix Me Up, My Darling"!
> 
> And thank you for all of your incredible support on the previous two installments.
> 
> I'm kinda flying blind writing this series; it's a mish-mash of ideas and largely unedited, but it's getting me back into the writing game and I'm enjoying poking around this story.
> 
> I'd also like to clarify that though I've done a fair bit of research, I'm no doctor, so if any of you catch any misrepresentation (specifically regarding Ben's injuries) please correct me
> 
> Also, considering the number of OCs popping up and mentioned in this chapter I want it to be known that this is not turning into an OC story-- I strictly am using them to give the Hargreeves a world outside of the academy to explore. I can't exactly explain Pogo running a city bookshop, lol. 
> 
> As always, comments mean the world to me :) I love interacting with readers sm


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